The 100 One-Shots
by blackthoorns
Summary: basically, a lot of the 100 drabbles, fluff as well as heartbreak... longer stuff should have its own stories. (requests are open, via review or pm)
1. we all have scars

**« Raven, are you okay? » « Raven, are you fine? » « Raven, are you coping well? »** She's tired of people asking her if she needs anything, if they could help. Of people looking at her like she can't do anything on her own. That…is very much true, at the moment. Her leg hurts, her whole body makes her feel like a truck just ran over her. But still her answer's the **« I'm perfectly fine. Don't you have anything better to do? »**  
There are a few persons she occasionally allows into the room they set up for her in the infirmary.  
She allows Wick to walk in. They don't kiss, they don't fuck — she couldn't anyway. But sometimes, just sitting next to each other is enough. He knows, doesn't he? What the fiery explosion felt like. The despair that grabbed her to the throat when she heard the footsteps of the Mountain Men approaching them and knew that she couldn't run away or take a gun out of her bag and shoot. Shoot until they'd be all dead._ Mama, just killed a man, put the gun against his head, pulled the trigger now he's dead…_ She sings sometimes when she's all alone. And she remembers her own words. _Welcome to the ground._ Because they're all killers in their own way, aren't they? None of them was innocent. Sometime she feels Kyle's hand on hers, bigger and warmer and gently patting its back. And in these moments, Raven Reyes herself wants to cry.  
She lets Harper walk in. Mostly because she decided to help while Abby was still recovering from the bone marrow sampling and she's the one to replace Raven's bandages everyday. She never talked much to that girl before, considering she was one of Bellamy's gunners and she was on Clarke's side. But that felt so long ago, and now, as she looks to Harper's pale face, her eyes haunted with what she endured, she's just sad. How could teenagers like them suffer so much? She talks to Harper a little because they both know how painful it was, the drill in their knees and their hips, flesh and bones crushed by metal. When the blond girl leaves, she wonders if they could have been friends if this mess didn't happen.

When Jasper passes the curtain, she doesn't yell at him. Although she hated the Moutain Men with a fiery passion, she knows what losing someone she loves has. Two times. The one time she realized Finn loved Clarke with all his heart and she didn't have enough room in it anymore. The second when he actually stopped breathing. So she comforts him, as much as she can. Raven has never had a way with words, but, God! She's trying, trying so hard. She tries to cheer him up by telling him stories mechanics told each other back then on the Ark. Dam jokes with her bitter voice and the smirk every surviving delinquent knows. Sometimes they look at each other, and he smiles. That, she considers her little victory.  
And finally, she says nothing when Bellamy sits on the corner of her bed, his face shut. She knows Octavia gave him a haircut and they grabbed clothes from Mount Weather, but he still looks the same to her, the boy who once was the rebel king to his people and their messiah. She can almost see the guilt eating him up, the sadness as he gets the habit of calling Clarke's name and realizing she won't answer now. They don't talk much, but their silence is words. Once he gave her a hug, and she buried her face in his shoulder. They both know who they miss, what they lost.  
Now, as she's sitting on the bed, the twilight lighting her face with tons of reds and purple, she grabs a pencil and begins drawing. She wants a system that will not fail, something as efficient and effective as what Bellamy described of Mount Weather. But it will be hers. She'll be known for that. People would not forget Raven Reyes' name, nor her face or her mind. As she stands up for the first time in weeks to give the plans to Marcus Kane with a big, warm smile, she knows she has began working on her new project. On her brace for all they endured.


	2. the way she smiles

**« Dammit, Bellamy, if you move one more time, I swear to God I will… »** He rolls his eyes, although Octavia cannot see him, as she is struggling to make him sit still and quiet on the stool. **« Will what? Don't make me go all swear jar on you, O. »**Bellamy can almost hear her sigh of despair behind his back before she catches her breath.  
She _does_ have enough reasons to be pissed off, though. It has been days since she has last tried to get him to sit and cut his hair. But he knows his sister. She doesn't give up, ever, whether it's about fighting or getting to cut, quoting her,_ this mess of curls that no brother of mine should be allowed to walk around with._ **« Don't you dare! »** He also knows how to read her voice, and that one says something like 'let us fight over such worthless things so you don't think about what's wrong right now'. She's trying not to think that neither her nor her boyfriend are part of the Trigedakru anymore. And deep down he asks himself: does she regret? Did she ever think she should have followed Indra and left? She'd still be her second, would have the opportunity to be one of this generation's best warriors and maybe a leader later – who could know? But then their eyes meet, that same tone of dark brown they both inherited from their mother, and he knows she would never have left him on his own. Aurora raised them well. She taught him how to be a good man, he taught her how to be kind. To be brave. Basically everything he could ever give her. And now that he looks at her, God, he's so proud. Of who she grew up to be. Of that little girl who became an adolescent then a woman – who could deny it now? – and still she's his sister all the way. That looked like a miracle.  
As Octavia's hands grab the scissors and bring them to the back of his neck, approaching the blades from his dark curls, Bellamy turns around to grab her wrists. **« O, don't. Your hands are shaking. »** he says quietly. That's true. Looking more delicate and fragile in his, but just as calloused, the scissors shake as she holds them still. He looks at her, carefully, on every angle. She refused weeks ago to give up her grounder braids, but she's wearing Ark clothes right now. What does she look like? The cross of two cultures he fears are hostile to each other once again. Why the hell did Lexa have to do that? She had betrayed them all, and that was still something stuck down his throat. But he pushes the though away to cup his little sister's face in his hands. She has never seemed so fragile for so long, he's almost scared to break her once again. Gently, he makes her put the scissors down and wraps his arms around her. After a few seconds, she lets go and returns that embrace.  
She smells of firewood and some flowers Lincoln gave her earlier. A little sweat as well, she must have trained before. Actually, she does more and more everyday. Is it to forget? Is it to drown herself in work so she doesn't feel anymore? In any case, she's hurting **« Are you alright, sis? »**Her dark eyes meet his and he catches a glimp of a tear she quickly sheds. **« I'm fine, Bell. Please don't... »** _Don't worry_, he finishes the sentence for her. And she smiles, that smile that made and still makes him want to throw the whole world to flames just to make sure she'd always do. **« You know what, O? Let's just do the haircut like you wanted to. Then rest. Napping for both of us if that's what you want. » **He reminds her quietly of the rare nights Aurora made sure no guard would be around their perimeter and he allowed her to climb on his bed, the two of them bundled up. **« Do we have a deal? »** She gives a laugh. Quick and light, but still he keeps it preciously.** « Yeah. Now sit back down. »** He rolls his eyes at her before pressing her hands one more time and sitting down **« Don't fuck it up, for the sake of any God there is in this hell of a world. »**  
All he gets in exchange is a slap at the back of his head and a glimpse of Octavia's smile again.


	3. get out of my head!

**« May we meet again. »** The sentence echoes once again in Lexa's mind, as she turns away from Clarke's face and its looks of betrayal, as her warriors follow her and leave the girl in front of the locked door. Blood still soaks her cheeks and her heart gets heavier at every step she takes, but she goes on. Hasn't she always?  
**« Leave me alone. »** Her voice whips the air, cold as steel. The _Ya, Heda_ she gets as a reply doesn't even touch her, it just passes through. The men walk past her, and it takes a while before she starts walking again. _Oh, Lexa, where do you go now?_, she asks herself as her footsteps carry her away from the road they took before. Without totally acknowledging it, she knows where she's heading, and yet she's still asking herself why.  
The clearing is small, but she knows it so well. She could describe and place every single bush, recite the name of each tree with her eyes closed. She remembers running to this place barefoot as a little child, her laugh echoing through the branches. Without even looking, she knows there's a strain in the middle, where decades ago an old oak tree stood tall. There she sits, there she closes her eyes, and there the memories flood her slowly.  
The first face she remembers is Anya's. Anya, who has taught her so well for years before she was made a Commander for the Woods Clan. Anya, who had been both a mother after Lexa's parents were killed by a rival clan and a mentor that gave her a heart of steel and that wisdom she could never get out of her head, although she didn't believe it that much before. _Love is weakness, Lexa. Repeat and remember._ And repeat she did. As she threw a quick glance to the woman by the campfire, she asked herself if Anya ever got to love. She just seemed so strong, and so confident, that it seemed impossible that anyone ever touched her heart. But, even if she spoke that way to her young apprentice, she didn't try to take Costia away.  
_Costia._ Her name only is enough to make Lexa's chest ache. She remembers brown eyes with glimpses of gold in it, and her mess of curly hair that smelled of running and freedom. She remembers leather clothes and short daggers, quick wits and a laugh that echoed through trees as she kissed her forehead. Just thinking about her hurts again, and the commander is tempted to push the thought away. But then her ghosts get up, both her mentor and that girl she loved - and still does somehow - seem to look at her with such disappointment that she fell on her knees.  
_Get smacked down, get back up!_ Anya's voice run through her brain again, and she bites her lips before forcing herself to stand tall again, face these silhouettes. _Lexa, how could you forget me so easily?_ Her heart sinks in her chest as she hears Costia's voice **« I…I didn't betray you! It's _you_ staying there and haunting everything I see! It's _Finn_ who made Clarke pull away from me! You dead people_ suck_. » **The moment she stops talking is the moment she realizes she's talking to no one but to reflections her brain made up himself. The two women are no longer there, and she's all alone in the glade of trees again. Slowly, she grabs the knife hanging off her belt. The blade shines for a second at the moonlight before she throws it in the ground, so deep only the guard remains visible. **« I said I had no weaknesses. From now on I'll have none. And you two », **she tellls her ghosts, **« should consider it done now. »** Eyes glimmering with her fierce look again, before she turns away and disappears in the trees.  
_What is it like, Heda Leksa, to question yourself that much?_


	4. my sister, my responsibility

_Octavia._  
Her own name echoes through her mind.  
_Octavia._ It always matched with Bellamy, didn't it? The two of them were never apart.  
She remembers the weight of her sword in her hand, the day she moved through the battle as if she was dancing, her moves swift and quick, slaying, killing without a stop, as she could hardly breath. She had heard Lexa's and Indra's voices in the midst of the fight, calling out for people and shouting orders. The commander was that furious, wasn't she? It was her revenge against the Ice Nation, the price that had to be paid for Costia's death. And since Mount Weather had been taken down a few weeks before, Sky People and grounders worked hand in hand to plan that attack. She was so sure, O. The warrior she was felt right in her element, ending lives quicker than thoughts.  
She remembers scanning the icy battlefield searching for familial faces. She had overseen Clarke's, with her jaw soaked in blood, Kane's with a gun on his shoulder. But Bellamy was nowhere to be seen. Though, she didn't have to worry. Her brother and her both fought like lions and growled like wolves. He was fine. He had to be. So dancing through corpses she did, slicing her way to the king of the Azgedakru.  
She remembers facing him and turning pale. He was a warrior himself, and she was not ready to face such an enemy yet. She remembers her own shout. emAi laik Okteivia kom Trigedakru, and I will end you!/em She remembers his mocking laugh as the sword he held sliced the air towards her, and how another voice echoed to her ears before a body blocked the way between the weapon and her as a shield ade of flesh._ Don't touch her!_  
That awful sound of steel cutting through muscles, veins and bones.  
She remembers it all too well, the way Bellamy's voice was quiet and tender as her tears rolled down her cheeks. Her tearing the king's sword from the hand she cut off, unaware that the battlefield had gone silent, one of the leaders fallen. Her ignoring the whimpering of that dying man and hating him with every fiber of her being, because if it wasn't for him, her brother would not be so cold in her arms.  
She remembers cradling Bellamy in her arms and letting herself cry, as if the tears could heal the wound that had divided his chest and clean their bodies soaked with blood. She remembers the words he whispered before closing his eyes and being terribly, awfully still while she was begging him to stay. To not leave her alone. More on her own that she had ever been.  
The words still burn in her mind when she pulls her brother's body closer to her when people try to take him away from her. _He's mine_, she hisses. _Don't touch him._  
That is what he had said.  
That she was his _sister_.  
That she was his _responsibility_.


End file.
